Transformation
by Fibre Optic
Summary: It's pretty funny how it happened. It's like, one minute I was getting tutoring from the quiet kid in class, and the next I was caught up in the middle of an all out war between a superhero and his mutant supervillain nemesis. It was just one of those years. Peter Parker/OC
1. Chapter 1

_This is set after the film, though for purposes of the story Peter, Gwen, Flash and all their classmates are only now in their final year. First chapter is an introduction to our protagonist and resident OC, but Peter obviously does come into it and remains a permanent fixture in future installments. If you like it, please let me know in a review so I can decide whether or not to post more. Enjoy (hopefully)!_

* * *

"Miss Hatcher, please see me after class."

I nodded my acknowledgement, leaned further back in my seat and flipped open my textbook.

I like Mr Bay, but math was just not my friend. Up until this year, I'd managed to struggle through the basic levels, but now that we were moving on, I was falling behind and though my mom had offered to pay, I knew we couldn't really afford tuition. It was no mystery to me why Mr Bay wanted to see me after the bell.

I spent the rest of the period staring at the page of my textbook with my eyebrows furrowed, listening to the sounds of pencils scratching paper around me. I caught the kid across from my left glancing my way, and quickly pretended to write in some numbers.

When the bell rang I shoved my things into my bag and hitched it up my shoulder, ready for Mr Bay to try vainly to explain these numerical mysteries in a way that I'd understand. He was sitting at his desk at the front of the room, and looked at me with an almost pitying smile when I approached.

"I take it you know why I asked you to stay," he said.

I shrugged one shoulder and gave him an awkward smile. "I think I have an idea, Sir."

"I won't waste your time, then." His expression turned serious, he folded both hands in front of him and met my eyes. "What is it that you were hoping to do, when you graduate?" he asked.

"Veterinary science," I replied cautiously. "I know I need to pass math for that – I am trying."

He waved a hand and shook his head. "No, no. You misunderstand me, Alex. I'm not here to threaten your future with bad grades – not at all."

I waited for him to go on, and when he didn't I shifted my weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. There's nothing quite like that strange feeling of being in a room on your own with a teacher, just the ticking of the clock on the wall between you and silence. "I can't really afford tuition, Sir. My mom is already working two shifts and -"

"Again, you have misread what I'm trying to say." Mr Bay smiled kindly when I blushed and looked away. "I have two students in my other classes that are attempting to tackle a higher level of math, and I believe one of them may be just the ticket to helping you along with your studies."

Frowning, I replied, "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Oh? I've already asked the boy in question. He's showed me his study plan, I think you could work rather well together. What, if you don't mind my asking, would be the problem?"

My mind jumped automatically to my home – a stuffy two bedroom apartment that I shared with my mom and sister, stacked to the ceiling with books, videos, toys, clothes, and clutter – and I shrugged my shoulders.

"There's nowhere for us to study – my mom doesn't like me bringing people home," I lied.

"I'm sure Mister Parker will let you into his home," Mr Bay insisted. "If not, the library is open all day."

I couldn't disagree, but my mind was suffocating with reasons that I did _not_ want this to be a thing. I nodded at Mr Bay, faked a smile when he beamed at me, and cursed myself all the way home.

* * *

"Mom, I'm home!" I tossed my bag inside the door and headed straight for the kitchen, where my little sister, Taylor, sat at the table. She still wore her uniform, and was busy colouring when I walked in. She barely glanced at me.

"Mom's next door," she said. "She said to tell you dinner's in the microwave."

"Great," I said, already tugging open the microwave door. "How was school?" I asked.

Taylor shrugged. "It was okay."

I raised an eyebrow as I sat across from her, setting down my plate of cold macaroni and picking at it absently. "Just okay?"

"I was in school," she said. "It wasn't the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."

I smiled at that. She may have been just nine years old, but my sister had clearly grasped the art of sarcasm. "My day was great, by the way. Thanks for asking," I said.

She rolled her eyes as she stood up, gathering her colouring sheet and crayons. "I have to get dressed, I'm going to Lisa's birthday later."

"Lisa's birthday?" I repeated. "Weren't you already at her birthday, like two weeks ago?"

Taylor scoffed. "That was _Sherry's _party."

I stared after her, bemused at the idea that my nine year old sister had a more active and exciting social life than me.

There wasn't much left for me to do, other than attempt homework and fall into a coma-like sleep to the soundtrack of Jersey Shore, but I still felt like delaying the inevitable. A solid hour was spent sitting with my feet on the kitchen table, chair tipped back on two-legs, pretending that one of Taylor's rubber pencil toppers was a cigarette and I was the Godfather.

The sound of the front door slamming shut startled me. The front legs of my chair crashed the floor and I righted myself, leaning one elbow on the table and glancing toward the door just as my mom entered.

"S'up?" I attemped casually. By my mom's raised eyebrow and skeptical once-over, I had failed casual. Ouch.

"Were you mauled by a hippy?" she said as she threw her coat over the back of the chair. "Because if not there's no excuse for smashing those two words together."

I put my hand in front of my mouth and faked a cough to hide my laughter, because no matter how blassé my mom might be, she did not need to know I found it amusing.

"Where are you going?" She asked over her shoulder, ruining my sneaky getaway into my bedroom. Damn.

"Um, homework," I replied. "Then bed, probably."

"Don't fall asleep with your TV on again, you know it wakes Taylor."

"Maybe if you'd let me have my own room -"

"Goodnight, Alex."

* * *

I was having one of those mornings.

My alarm didn't wake me, so I missed my bus. It rained while I walked to school; by the time I actually got there my socks were wet and I was late.

I took the opportunity of a free period to hurry into the empty cafeteria and take a seat by the radiator, which I hung my socks on. I had English after lunch, so decided to get a start on Macbeth before everyone arrived in for lunch and I couldn't concentrate.

It was there, barefoot and slouched in a plastic chair with a book in front of my face, that I was interrupted by my new math buddy.

"Hey."

I jumped, banged my elbow off the radiator, dropped my book face down on the table and swiftly looked up at the voice that had caught me off guard.

I recognized him only vaguely, had passed him in corridors a few times over the years. I think he sat next to me in biology once.

He was taller than me, had messy brown hair and a nice smile. I tilted my head, then smiled back and gestured toward the seat across from me, deciding to ignore the fact that he had caught me in my bare feet in the cafeteria. If he questioned it, I wasn't sure I'd care.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said as he sat down. "I'm Peter. Peter Parker."

I nodded, shaking his offered hand. "Alex." I was going to let him speak next, but one look at his unsure gaze told me he was the inept type and would only let our decent beginnings descend into awkward silence hell. "Did Mr Bay send you?" I asked instead.

He looked startled, as if he'd been expecting the silence and had already begun falling into his own thoughts. He nodded as my question slowly registered. "Yes, yeah, he did. He, uh, told me you were having trouble with math."

I nodded, one corner of my mouth turning up into a smile. "You might just have your work cut out for you, Parker. To say I have trouble with math is like saying the Pope is a bit religious."

Peter let out a surprised laugh, and instantly the limbo that hung over us seemed to shatter; we were going to get along fine.

As the bell went and the cafeteria started filling up, Peter showed me his plan for helping me. The kid was organised as hell, I had to give him that. Between us we managed to arrange our free periods for study, which was beyond a relief as it meant that there was no after-school meet ups.

I had expected to not really like whoever Mr Bay set me up with for tuition. Our school wasn't cliché in the sense that we had cliques, but we were in no way free of the stereotypical jocks and nerds either. I'd had run-ins with both, and was glad to say that Peter Parker and the nerds I was used to seeing were two very different beasts.

It seemed like this might just work out.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks everyone who reviewed so far. If you're re-reading this story, you might notice that the chapters have been fixed up, some more neatly cut into proper chapters so that they'll flow better. _

_Do review if you like what's happening so far, and especially review if you hate what's happening so far (and let me know why you hate it!) _

_Just a warning: not a lot of Peter in this chapter, but the next chapter will be a lot of friendly Peter/Alex fun. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Take this away from me before I stab you with the pencil."

Peter calmly slid the page out from under my folded arms and took a look at it. I leaned my head on my arms and watched as he read over what I had written.

"It's not that bad," he said finally, turning to look at me. "You were right for the first half of the – you're not listening to me are you?"

I pressed my face into my arms and blocked out my surroundings, letting out a muffled, "No."

We were in the cafeteria again, and I was frustrated. So far, Peter had surprised me. He'd gotten me through several chapters of my textbook, and I actually understood what he'd been teaching me.

I was a slow learner, but he was patient, and already my grades had started to look up. But as we progressed, the questions got harder, and I was suddenly feeling back at square one again.

It was our fourth week - a whole month since Peter had started tutoring me – and already I was having a meltdown. I wanted to hate the studying, but I had grown really fond of Peter. He was actually pretty funny, we had managed to build something of a connection and friendship built on mutual snarkiness, and most of the time I even forgot we were doing math. . .until he asked me to try a question on my own. Then things like this happened.

"You wanna take a break?"

I nodded into my arm, only lifting my head when I heard the sound of the textbook slamming shut. The thing could knock someone out. I was damn near nursing a hernia having to lug it around in my bag all day.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're lying to me about how to do the math just to keep me quiet, and if it's all just a master plan to get me to fail in my exams," I grumbled.

Peter chewed his lower lip in thought for a moment, then looked at me and grinned. "If I wanted you to fail, I could have just left you as you were."

I contemplated this. "Maybe I'm the spy," I suggested. "And I'm actually a math genius."

"What's your motive?"

"Um. . .spending time with you?" I said sweetly, batting my eyelashes at him.

Peter rolled his eyes and shoved the book across the table to me. "Stop it, you're making me blush," he said flatly.

Amused, I shoved my book in my bag and hurriedly stood up to follow as he led the way out of the library, holding the door for me with a sarcastic smile.

"What class you got next?" he asked, as we headed down the main corridor towards the out-buildings.

"I'm free to go now," I announced, hitching my bag up my shoulder. "Free track till this afternoon, and I can skip gym."

"Lucky," Peter said, glancing sideways at me. "See you tomorrow then."

"Is that a promise?" I said, pouting when we stopped outside the exit.

He scoffed, shoving me lightly toward the gate as he headed for the other side of the building. "Tomorrow, Hatcher. Tomorrow."

"I miss you already!" I called to his retreating back, recieving a half-hearted gesture over his shoulder in response.

* * *

If there was one thing I disliked about the Winter months, it was the dark evenings. I walked home from school at 4 o'clock and by the time I arrived home at 5, it was dark enough to pass for midnight.

Mom was home this time, sitting with Taylor at the table and looking thoroughly worn out. I collapsed into the kitchen chair opposite them and greeted them both with a half-hearted wave.

"How was school?" Mom asked, tone nothing short of conversational.

I shrugged. "Okay. I had tutoring with Parker, that was...frustrating."

Mom smiled, but nodded in understanding. "I was never any good with math either. How are your grades holding up?"

"We're maintaining a steady B average since Parker's grand arrival on the scene," I told her. "He helped me with tonight's homework though, so one less thing to do tonight I guess."

We spent the rest of the evening making companionable conversation and helping Taylor with her spellings, before I leave to retire for the evening into my room. I like to get in ahead of Taylor most nights, it gives me the opportunity to wind down with television before her strict bedtime routine interferes.

Our room is small, two beds separated only by a locker at the foot of the beds which holds out ancient big-backed television. We lost the remote years ago so I have to switch it on by hand and make sure the channel is one I'll commit to before I get myself comfortable.

I settled on a rerun of House and buried myself under the comforter, already faking sleep that quickly became genuine when Taylor walked in less than an hour later.

* * *

"There's someone on the phone for you."

I opened one eye. "Hmm?"

My mom was standing beside my bed with one hand on her hip, holding the house phone out to me. It took me a few seconds to register what she said, during which mom mouthed "sounds important".

I sat up, ignoring the headrush and steadying myself with one hand against the matress, and took the phone from her. "Hello?"

"Is this Alex?"

I cleared my throat and grunted an answer, and immediately felt embarrassed when the formal voice on the other end hesitated.

"This is Doctor Jettenburg, from Midtown Veterinary Hospital. I'm calling in regards to your resumé and letter requesting a period of work experience with us."

"Oh," was my not-so-intelligent response. I'd sent that letter months ago at the school's advice, and forgotten about it almost immediately afterward.

"One of our nurses in training just left us, so we're free a spot if you're still interested," he continued, then paused. "Are you?"

I opened and closed my mouth twice before words managed to come out, but when they did it was in a rushed jumble of, "Yeah of course, I'd love to so much – thank you so much for offering I would love to."

The man just laughed, and I was glad he couldn't see the cringing that followed my overly-grateful word vomit. He could probably imagine it during the pained silence once I shut up.

"If you'd like to come by on Friday after school, one of our nurses will show you around, explain the role you can play in the business from day-to-day."

"That's great, thank you so much."

I hung up feeling strangely satisfied. I had actually made progress with my goals in life. It was already Thursday, and I'd probably be a nervous wreck until I got my first day over with, but at least it was something.

Mom was helping Taylor pack her lunch when I ventured out of my room to share the news. She beamed when I told her, and even Taylor smiled across the table at me. "So, you're gonna be away even longer every day?" she asked, apparently determined to ruin my good mood.

I just shook my head and smiled sarcastically. "Thank you, Taylor."

"This is a great start," Mom said, ignoring Taylor and I. "You'll have to keep up with the studying to make sure it's not just a false hope."

"I have been," I protested. "I told you, Parker's been teaching me."

"That's good. Just make sure you actually get some studying done, too."

It took me a while to get the implication there, but when I did I just huffed.

Whatever. I grabbed my schoolbag and tossed an apple and a bottle of water into it, before bidding my sister and mother goodbye.

* * *

"Yo. Lex, you with me?"

I blinked back to reality and smiled at Peter when I found him looking at me curiously from across the table. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I get the feeling that you don't really care," he said.

"Sorry," I said again. "I'm just tired."

"I've noticed. What's kept you up?"

"Nothing, just couldn't fall asleep." _Well, and I got an internship at the veterinary hospital that I am absolutely crapping myself over and trying to avoid thinking about. _I faked a smile.

He didn't look convinced, but thankfully let the subject drop. He leaned back in his chair and started tapping his fingers on the table, watching someone pass by in the library. "So," he began, sitting straighter and focussing on me again."I was wondering what we're doing for Christmas break."

I frowned. "What?"

Peter shut his eyes tightly, a pained smile on his face as he re-worded his question. "I mean with the studying, I was just, you know. . .we could take a break if you wanted. Till school starts back."

"Oh! Right. Um. . ." Damn. Ask me this two months ago, there wouldn't have been a decision at all. I hated math then, and I hate math now. The problem is that without my in-between lessons with Peter, I don't really have anything else to do. I'd sort of come to look forward to our study time.

It was the only time throughout the whole damn day that someone at school talked to me without treating me like some shy, naive girl who required slow baby talk to understand their teenage wiles.

So despite the fact that two weeks without math sounded like heaven, I found myself shaking my head. "No, I don't need a break. We can keep going till school is back."

Peter actually looked pleased with that. Which would have been nice, only he opened his mouth to say, "That's great, it's the only way we would have been able to finish chapter eleven in time for your next exam."

I threw my pencil at him.

It kind of happened in slow motion. The pencil was spinning through the air, on a direct path toward Parker's face, and then it hit _me_.

In a blur of movement, he'd thrown down his textbook and hit the pencil in such a way as to perfectly redirect it. It bounced off my forehead, rolled off the table and clattered onto the floor. Neither of us moved to get it.

"Dude," I said, breaking the silence between us. Parker looked tense, as if he couldn't believe he'd done it either. "How the hell -"

"Good reflexes," he said quickly. "Great reflexes. I've got - I've got great reflexes."

I raised an eyebrow and he dropped his gaze to the table. "Okay," I said slowly, just to see how he'd react. As I predicted, he looked hopeful, then downright relieved when I changed the subject back to how we'd arrange our studying during the school break. That was interesting.

* * *

Time seemed to be on my side for once, as Friday felt like it rolled round early this week. Less time to dread the inevitable awkward meet-and-greet could only be a good thing.

The veterinary hospital was all green walls and shiny white floors when I walked inside. It smelled clinical, but with enough hint of wet dog that you'd know it was _definitely_ in use. A small wooden unit in the corner farthest from the door served as reception, and I approached it nervously.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked, peering over the lenses of her glasses to get a better look at me.

"I got a call to come by today," I said. She raised an eyebrow, so I elaborated; "For the internship."

She turned and pushed a buzzer on the wall beside her desk. "You can sit in the waiting area, one of the nurses will come down to you."

I ignored her rudeness, too nervous to return it, and turned from the desk and went to the empty waiting room. It was slightly cooler there, and I took up a leaflet from one of the chairs about the importance of deworming your dog. . .apparently it's _very_ important.

I wasn't waiting long before a youngish man with white scrub bottoms and a loose fitting jacket poked his head round the door. He smiled when he spotted me, and came forward with his hand outstretched. "Alex Hatcher?"

"Yep," I confirmed, shaking his hand. "I'm here for the internship."

"Yes, Doctor Jettenburg was telling me. Come on, I'll show you around."

The practice was small enough; I was taken through the operating theatre, both examination rooms, the quarantine unit, and the holding area. Already a lot of the steel cages held post-op cats and dogs of various shapes and sizes, many sporting cones round their heads.

"So basically, you'll just be observing examinations, probably surgeries a little later on. We might have you clean out the cages. It's not too much."

I nodded as he spoke, a small smile on my face. It was strangely exciting, even if I was just going to be cleaning dog crap. It'd sound better on paper. I thanked him as he led me back out to reception, and even smiled at the receptionist, who just scowled at the wall behind my head.

On my way out the building's glass doors, I almost collided with a man on his way in, and subconsciously gave him the once over; business suit, briefcase, grey hair to his shoulders and a worried expression.

I stepped to the side to let him pass, but he seemed intent on pushing by me regardless. My back hit the wall with a force that surprised me, and I stared after him with raised eyebrows as he all but ran inside the hospital.

* * *

It was pretty late when I got home.

I let the door click quietly behind me, and managed a stealthy entrance for about fifteen seconds, at which point I walked into a kitchen chair. Cursing under my breath, I felt along the wall for the lightswitch and turned it on.

Two of the kitchen chairs were pulled out from the table and placed a short distance apart. Draped over the top of them was a blanket, and on top of that layers of my clothes, presumably to keep any light from seeping in. As I stood in the doorway, Taylor's head popped out from beneath the blanket.

"I built a fort," she said in response to my unasked question.

"Why in the name of all that is holy. . .?"

"To keep the masked man out," she replied.

I raised an eyebrow. "Masked man?"

Taylor nodded. "The one on TV."

"What, Spiderman? He wouldn't hurt you -"

"No, the other guy," she interrupted. Before I could question her further, she retreated back inside her fort and disappeared from view.

"Wait - my clothes?"

"Well, I wasn't going to use mine," came her muffled reply.

"Just put them back when you're done," I sighed. "If you spill food on them, I will kill you."

I went into the bedroom and turned on the TV, settling on the edge of my bed and flipping through the channels. The usual ritual was to switch on something trashy as background noise and do my homework, but something on one of the news channels caught my eye. I went back and turned up the volume.

There was news footage playing on a loop of Spiderman hanging from a balcony.

Above him, a shadowy figure leaned forward, one hand pressed to Spiderman's throat. The footage skipped forward a few minutes, to a point when Spiderman succeeded in squirming away, and falling headfirst off the edge of the balcony. He shot his web forward, but the footage cut off before it could show him swinging.

The news anchor appeared in the bottom right hand corner of the screen, and I leaned forward to listen.

"_Spiderman's attacker appears to have been seeking our masked hero out, and it looks like he's more than prepared for whatever Spidey has to throw at him. By the look of this most recent footage, it could well be that we are documenting the downfall of the Spiderman as it happens. If the Shadowed figure in any of this footage looks familiar to you, please call our hotline . . ." _

I tuned out, an automatic reaction to the words "please call our hotline".

Well, I thought as I switched Jersey Shore back on and pulled open my school bag. That at least explained Taylor's new found fear of the masked man.


	3. Chapter 3

_I can't thank you all enough for the support you've shown me so far. I feel ungrateful to ask for more, but as I'm currently in the process of re-writing this entire story (story why is on my profile) I would really appreciate hearing from you as you read along. Either way I hope you like this story, and I apologise for the less than speedy reviews. I'm a busy person these days, but I try to make time for this._

* * *

"Remember what we talked about before? How the x represents a number?"

I threw down the pencil, leaned my elbows on the open textbook and grabbed handfuls of my hair, squeezing my eyes shut against tears of frustration. I was not about to cry over a math problem. I was not. It wasn't gonna happen. A tear trickled down my chin, and seconds later splashed onto the page.

I was crying over a math problem.

"Lex are you – are you crying?" Peter sounded almost amused, but his concern was pretty much forefront, which just made me feel even worse.

I nodded as I lifted my head, wiping at my eyes with the back of one hand. "I'm crying because I can't do this stupid problem and I hate math. I just can't understand any of it. And now I feel stupid."

It was our last day of school before Christmas Break, which for most seniors means crazy parties – in fact, I'm pretty sure for Peter it probably meant crazy parties too. He had reached a strange popularity in the months before I knew him that had somehow reached a peak recently.

Kids that used to beat him up were inviting him to hang out; girls that used to brush him aside were taking notice. I was just hoping he'd stick around and help me study in between his drinking and orgies and whatever the hell else teenagers do.

"Well, don't cry," he said, as if this were a reasonable request. "It's just math. You don't have to understand it, you just have to learn the methods long enough to pass your finals. Then you can, you know. . .empty all the math out of your head." He grinned hopefully.

"You make it all sound so easy," I whined, glaring at the book of math problems in front of me. "Of course it's easy for you, you're like a genius. I just can't do this."

He gave me a smile that was somewhere between playful and sympathetic. "How about you come back to my place and we'll try a change of environment? Could be beneficial."

I lifted an eyebrow, and smiled a watery little smile. "Are you inviting me into your room, Parker?"

"Just a little bit," he said, standing and offering me a hand up. "Don't get excited. My aunt is home, she won't let you take advantage of me."

I laughed a little at that, but I was genuinely nervous. It had been almost three months (which was beyond weird – it felt like just last week that Mr Bay was suggesting tutoring) since Peter had started tutoring me, and we hadn't even attempted to invite one another round.

It seemed like our friendship was destined to revolve around math and my having mental breakdowns. It would be weird seeing him interact with his aunt, meeting someone who lived with him and seeing how he lived when he wasn't at school, teaching me how to do basic sums.

"Mr Bay told us when the final exam is," I said as we walked out the school gates. It was technically a little early to leave, but we had a mostly free track 'till the afternoon anyway.

Peter grunted a reply, which was enough for me to continue.

"Three days after Christmas break ends. He didn't say what's gonna be covered, though," I sighed.

"Apparently in real life that's what they do."

"Oh, he's funny too," I snarked, shooting him a glare.

"I'm not sure I trust your definition of funny enough to be insulted by your sarcasm."

"I'm not sure you know how to be a smartass without resorting to insults about my ability to detect humour."

"I'm. . .just not sure," he laughed, dropping his head and running a hand through his hair the way he always did when a conversation had evaded him. "But I'm pretty sure I won."

I elbowed him hard, and nearly stopped in my tracks with surprise when my elbow met only hard muscle. Peter noticed my expression, and his own became puzzled. "What?"

"Dude, are you made of kevlar?" I demanded, gesturing loosely toward his midsection.

He laughed a little, but made no response as he took a turn and led me up the pathway to what I assumed must be his house.

Still a little in awe of my tutor's rock hard body, I didn't have time to get nervous before an older woman with a kind looking face opened the door. Her eyes, which brightened when she saw Peter, practically lit up when I peered out from behind him.

"Aunt May, this is Alex, the girl I've been tutoring," he said, kissing his aunt on the cheek as he walked inside. "Alex, this is my aunt."

"It's really nice to meet you," I said, shaking her hand.

"You too dear, he never told me Alex was a girl!" Aunt May chuckled, looking genuinely surprised.

I rolled my eyes, scoffing with disbelief as I followed her after Peter, who simply looked sheepish. He was already perching himself on the countertop, drinking straight from a carton of orange juice.

"Peter, get down from there!" Aunt May said, pushing him away from the counter. "And were you drinking from the carton? You can buy a fresh one tonight on your way home if you were."

"I will, I will," Peter placated, backing out of the kitchen slowly with both hands raised and a grin on his face. "Alex and I are gonna do some studying. Shout if you need me."

Aunt May raised both eyebrows, a knowing look on her face. Peter either didn't notice or ignored it, but flustered, I hurried to say, "No, really. We are studying. I'm not like that, we don't – I don't – we're just friends."

She laughed quietly, but shook her head and waved me on. Blushing furiously, I put my head down and chewed on my thumbnail as I hurried up the stairs after Peter.

His room was big and airy, and I couldn't help but laugh at how much of a nerd he actually was once I entered. A DNA model hung from one wall, a solved rubix cube sat on his desk, and one of the far walls was adorned with a poster of Albert Einstein. No wonder this kid used to get beat up.

Peter noticed my expression as I looked around, and he tongued the inside of his cheek, clearly fighting a smart remark.

"So," I said, turning to him with a grin. "Nice room."

"Shut up."

"Yes, sir."

He cleared a spot on the floor and sat down, gesturing for me to do the same. After a moment, we were in a familiar situation – I was on the verge of stabbing him with my pencil and he was talking me down. Just like old times.

"Look, we can take a break and come back to it," he said calmly, placing a hand on my wrist and using it to slowly lower the pencil-clutching fist from his face.

"Yeah," I agreed, exhaling loudly. "Yeah, we can come back to it."

Peter nodded, and skillfully swept the textbooks, paper and pencils out of my line of sight. He got up and sat at his computer, sliding the mouse a couple of times until the screen brightened. I sat on the floor for a while, watching as he clicked through his e-mails, before finally getting fed up and attempting conversation.

"So, where are you going tonight?" I asked.

"Huh?" he looked at me strangely, pausing mid-spin in his chair.

"Um, your aunt mentioned you'd be going out tonight," I reminded him. "It doesn't matter, I just -"

"Oh, it's nothing. I just go out sometimes. Walking. Ska – skating! I skate, that's what I, um, yeah. I skate." He scratched at the back of his neck and glanced upward at the ceiling, while I just looked at him.

"You go out skating every night?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

He did that pouty thing he always does when he's thinking, and nodded. The subject was clearly making him uneasy, which only made me more curious. I leaned back, propping myself up on my elbows and staring up at him from the floor. For the first time since we'd met, I found myself giving Peter a once-over.

Now that I was looking for them, the signs of him staying out late seemed obvious. Dark rings under his eyes, usually hidden in the shadow of the rims of his glasses when we were working, but so clear now that the lenses were off. His tousled hair that I had always assumed was just achieved by a massive amount of product was clearly not so much an achievement as it was a consequence of sleeping late every morning and rushing to school.

"What are you looking at?" he asked. "I'm considering making a joke about how you don't have to admire me, but I'm not sure I'm emotionally prepared for the cutting remark you'd return with."

That snapped me out of it. I looked at Peter and shook my head. "Dude, I can't even have conversations with you. You make everything meta."

He laughed a little, and turned back to his computer screen. "Right, so are you ready to get back to the math?"

"No," I replied instantly. "I want to look at your stuff."

"Lex," he groaned, spinning his chair around to watch as I pushed myself up and began to wander. "Please don't look through my things. It makes me feel weird."

"Does it?" I said blandly, not looking back. I stopped in front of a shelf that appeared to be stocked with random items. One in particular, a small silver bar with two wobbly squares on each end, caught my eye. "What's this?" I asked, holding it up to the light and squinting.

"Just from one of my old boards."

"Who taught you how to skate?" I asked.

"Is this an interrogation?"

I smiled sarcastically as I put the metal part back on the shelf and turned toward Peter. "I just want to get to know you better. Is that so wrong?"

"Don't start," he warned, but there was barely-hidden amusement in his voice that assured me he was pretty much prepared for me to go on regardless.

"But sweetheart -"

"Alex," he said. "Stop. Put that down and do your homework."

"Yes, dad." I placed an atom-esque stress ball back on the shelf and was about to turn around when something caught my eye. Curious, I lifed the small transparent dome from its dusty spot on the shelf and examined it. Suspended on a single thread inside was a brightly coloured red and blue spider.

I turned it over in my hand, fascinated. I was pretty weirded out by spiders when they were alive, but to see one like this – perfectly preserved, with every leg splayed out and each miniscule hair on display – well, it was kind of awesome.

"Alex."

Peter's voice broke me from my trance, and I looked over sharply. "Yeah?"

"Come on," he said. "These letters won't translate into numbers themselves."

Rolling my eyes, I placed the spider back on the shelf and joined Peter on the carpet, ready for another painful bout of study.


	4. Chapter 4

_New chapter! I have nothing to say for once, other than to thank you all so much for reviewing. I really do find it very encouraging, and it was thanks to your enthusiasm that I managed to edit this last night. I hope you enjoy! _

* * *

"Wow," I uttered.

Peter slid into the seat opposite me, hood pulled up and head low."Yeah I know. Can we not?"

"What happened?" I said, stretching across the desk and tilting my head. He jerked his head out of view and seemed to somehow retreat further into his hood.

"I fell," he said flatly. "Now can we start with the math?"

I scoffed. "Fell into what, a pit of muggers? Did Flash do this to you?"

"We left off on chapter 12, right?"

"Peter."

I stared at him, waiting, and after a moment he finally lifted his head to look at me.

It took a lot of effort not to react to what I saw.

The entire right side of his face looked as if it had been scratched raw, and his eye was bloodshot and swollen; a line of deep purple bruising tracked along his left cheek, blossoming into a bright yellow where it disappeared into the shadow of his hood below his jawline.

"Shit, Peter," I said.

My voice was only barely audible, but Peter tipped his head to the side and looked at me with unblinking brown eyes. "I'm fine, Lex."

"Why do you keep saying that?" I snapped, glaring at the small portion of his face not hidden away by his hood. "You look like you fell off a building – you're so clearly _not_ fine."

After a brief period of silence, Peter sighed. "Alex, just forget it."

Something in the tone of his voice caught my attention. It wasn't the voice of Parker – at least, not the one I was familiar with. He sounded like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders who had all but cracked under the pressure.

It was almost scary to hear such an echo of helplessness from a guy who usually seemed so damned solid and reliable...even if it was just to show up early for lessons or teach me how to make proper use of a calculator.

"Yeah," I said hesitantly. "We were on chapter 12."

* * *

Peter leaned back and scooted one foot against the ground, building up speed before lowering himself to a crouch and hopping the board into the air. It flipped upside down and crashed to the ground.

I stood with my back to the wall, one foot resting flat against it, arms folded as I watched Peter tip the board back and hop on once more. He rolled forward at a half-crouch. This time when the board flipped, it landed back on its wheels without dislodging him.

I could have stood watching him for longer. Part of me wanted to see how long I could get away with it before he noticed me. The carpark he was practicing in was empty, and the noisy wheels of his skateboard against the tarmac filled up the space, but I was still surprised he hadn't noticed me right away. He usually seemed so aware of everything that went on around him.

Instead, I pushed away from the wall and walked across the parking lot, making sure he heard my footsteps as I approached. When he did, he slowed his skateboard to a stop and hit the bottom with his foot, catching it with one hand when it bounced up from the ground. He turned to look at me, eyebrows raised but a smile on his face.

"Hey." It sounded more like a question, but I gave him a little wave anyway.

He came over, entering into the light of one of the nearby streetlamps. His face seemed a little less horrifically bruised than before, but it was still hard to look at. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, glancing over my shoulder as if the reason might be hiding behind me.

"Walking," I shrugged. "Isn't it a bit dangerous to be skating out here at night? It's kind of deserted."

He cracked a smile, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of barely-disguised amusement I was familiar with. "I could say the same to you."

"You _could_," I mused."Only we both know I can handle myself, right?"

"Of course," he agreed. He stuck his free hand into the front pocket of his jacket, rolling back his shoulders and shaking his head, as if freeing it of an unwanted through. The movement brought with it a pained grimace, but for the sake of his pride I pretended not to notice.

"You want me to walk you home?" I asked, trying and failing to hide the amused grin that came with the words. Peter seemed to find it funny too.

"Seriously? You're so chivalrous," he said dryly, but when I started walking he fell into step beside me.

"I won't charge extra for it," I told him as we exited the car park. "I can't handle the puppy eyes you'll turn on me."

He glanced sideways and laughed. "Puppy eyes?"

"Yes," I said. "Don't play dumb."

We weren't far from Peter's house, but it still seemed like we reached it very fast. Any other time I would have rushed the journey; for all my talk, I hated walking alone at night. New York isn't the safest place to travel alone when you're in no way able to physically defend yourself.

As we neared his house, I noticed how on edge Peter seemed. His eyes darted toward the lit-up window of his living room, and he began to fidget with his hands. It crossed my mind that perhaps someone at home had hurt him, until I remembered that he just lived with his aunt.

I followed him up the pathway, and ducked under his arm when he unlocked and held the door open for me. "Please, come on in," he called after me.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Parker," I said over my shoulder.

I waited in the hallway for him to lead the way into the kitchen – I almost jumped out of my skin when the voice of his aunt broke through the silence of the house. It didn't look like she'd registered my presence in the kitchen; her eyes planted themselves firmly on Peter when he walked in behind me, and her lip quivered.

"Where were you?" She asked. It wasn't accusing. It wasn't even angry. She just sounded tired.

"Out," Peter said. He opened the fridge and crouched to root through it, hiding his face behind the open door. "Alex was with me."

His words had an instantaneous effect. Aunt May did a double take, and smiled weakly at me. "Alex, I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention. How are you, dear?"

"I'm doing great, Mrs Parker," I replied, resolutely ignoring the tension around me. I wished I'd just gone home. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm just fine. There's some tea in the cupboard if you'd like some."

I teetered on the verge of saying no, but when Peter stood and shut the fridge door with a lot more force than was necessary, I smiled at his aunt. "That'd be great."

I sat sideways at the kitchen table as Peter boiled the kettle and poured his aunt and I cups of tea. Apparently hot beverages were something he couldn't get his head around. He sat on the counter while the tea brewed, and his aunt began asking me about school.

"Peter was telling me that you wanted to be a vet after you graduate," she said.

"Hopefully," I replied. "If I can pass math."

"You will," Peter said. I looked over, but he had his back to us as he made the tea. "You just gotta get it out of your head that you're bad at it, because you're not."

I smiled down at the table and shook my head. "If I'm not bad, then why am I failing?"

"Because Mr Bay sucks at teaching," Peter said matter-of-factly as he set our cups in front of us.

"Peter," aunt May said warningly, but there was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

Peter shrugged as he sat down, taking the seat on my other side. "It's true. He's a nice guy and all, but he's too strict on his old fashioned methods. Not everyone learns the same way."

"Well, that is very true," his aunt agreed. "But some people have to make their own mistakes before they learn from them." She looked intently at Peter, and I got the feeling we weren't talking about Mr Bay's teaching methods anymore.

She drained her cup and went to the sink, where she set it down before looking at Peter and I. "Goodnight, Alex. It was lovely seeing you."

"You too, Mrs Parker. Thank you for the tea."

"You're welcome, dear. Peter, would you mind washing the cups?"

He shook his head and waved as his aunt headed up the stairs, leaving us in the quiet of the kitchen. It seemed like the best opportunity I was going to get to quiz him, so I grabbed it with both hands and decided to try to catch him off guard.

"Do you get picked on at school?" I asked.

Peter frowned and shook his head. "Nah...why?"

"I just – who the hell is doing that to your face?"

"No one, I fell. Skating. I told you."

"Yeah." I smiled fakely. "I don't believe you."

I knew I'd taken him by surprise; that's why I'd done it. But Peter wasn't budging.

"Lex, you're being a brat."

"You knew I was a brat when you married me!" I said, throwing my hands up dramatically. Oscars, here I come.

He just shook his head, but I knew he wasn't annoyed. He was too good-natured to get that annoyed with me in the first place.

In this case, that good natured quality of his? It was annoying.


	5. Chapter 5

_Ta-da. I've edited every chapter that's up so far, and I've got a shiny new one for you. _

_It's not very long, but it's the first thing I've written for this fic since I lost all of it with the old laptop. It's snails pace, but it's progress and that has to count for something. I hope you like it, and I hope there's no mistakes in it because it's really late and I just want to post it before I fall asleep._

_Thank you all so much for your continued support in my abscence, you guys are the best!_

* * *

The bruising on Peter's face took only two days to fade, which I put down to his mom and dad having some pretty amazing genes.

I was almost ready to let it go; if he had been telling the truth then it wasn't a big deal, but even if he'd been lying and someone _had_ beaten him up, it was obviously over now.

But then he showed on lunch at Tuesday, textbook tucked under one arm as he meandered through the tables to reach the one we shared.

His hood wasn't up, but he had a baseball cap on with the peak pulled low to hide his eyes. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as he sat down across from me.

"We're on the second textbook," he announced, sliding it across the table.

I stopped it with my hand and lifted my bottle of water out of its path. Peter was hunched forward in his seat, one elbow leaning on the table and his chin in his hand. I couldn't really see his face in the lighting of the cafeteria combined with the shadow of his cap, and it annoyed me.

"Take off the cap," I said. "I hate not being able to see who I'm talking to."

He raised one hand to the peak of the hat self-consciously. "You know what I look like."

"What if you're an imposter? What if you're just pretending to be Peter so that I still our super Best Friend Forever secrets? What if you work for the government and have one of those voice changing things to make you sound like –"

"Can you be quiet for like, one second?"

"I can if you take the stupid hat off."

We both stared at each other – or, I stared at where I thought his eyes were hiding and he glared through the hat – and then he finally relented. He reached up and swiped the hat from his head, throwing it onto the table and giving me the first honest-to-god glare I'd ever received from him.

I shut my eyes and raised my hand to my forehead, silent for a few seconds as I thought of how exactly to respond to this.

His left eye was puffy and bloodshot, ringed underneath with dark purple that sure isn't from lack of sleep. The entire left side of his face looked light yellow, like it was recovering from deep bruising. He heals fast, but I only saw him yesterday and he wasn't sporting either of these injuries.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" I asked finally.

His expression remained hard, and I already knew what the answer was. He reached across the table and tapped the book with one hand, fixing his hat back on with the other. "We're on page 10."

* * *

"Hey," I called, dodging a tray-carrying-kid without letting my eyes move from their target. "Hey!" I shouted, louder this time.

Flash turned around, distracted from his animated discussion with his friends, and frowned when he saw me storming towards him. "What?" he demanded.

"Did you hit Parker?" I asked bluntly. I tried to keep my voice low so his friends wouldn't hear; I could see them straining to already.

"Parker? No," Flash scoffed. "Me and Parker are cool. I wouldn't hit him unless he deserved it."

I stared at him for a few seconds, but he seemed to be telling the truth. Unwilling to call this a dead end, I asked, "Do you know who did?"

Flash shrugged, already turning back to his friends. "Someone who thought he deserved it."

* * *

I'd usually see Peter several times throughout the day, but he was obviously avoiding me because I didn't catch sight of him at all for the entire day after I'd made him take the hat off.

Part of me wanted to play him at his own game, head straight for his house as soon as school ended, but I had to be at the vets again and I wasn't risking my position just because Peter was throwing a tantrum.

I walked straight to the practice after school and for the most part it was helpful in taking my mind off of the dramatic tutoring that morning.

There were three dogs in reception all at once when I walked inside.

One was a nervous barker, and hadn't shut up since his owner dragged him across the threshold by the collar. The other two sat patient with their owner, until one got fed up with all the barking and decided to pee on the floor in protest.

Guess who got to clean that up.

Most of the day was spent doing menial things like that, emptying the bin of dirty newspaper and checking people in for a brief period while the grumpy receptionist (her name was Miranda, and her attitude was unrivalled) and I was starting to feel weirdly homesick.

It's not that I minded, really. I was happy to have gotten a place here at all, so cleaning dog pee and asking people to please sit away from the nervous dog and his equally on-edge owner wasn't something I was about to complain over.

But it'd been a long day, and I had a shit ton of homework to do once my shift here was over, which wasn't for another two hours. So maybe my mood wasn't the best when Dr Jettenburg asked me to stay and help tidy the cat cages after closing time.

"If it's not too much trouble." He was looking at me as if he knew it wouldn't be.

"Of course not," I said, already on my feet to get a start on it. "My mom won't mind if I'm home a little later than planned."

The cat room smelled strongly of amonia, and it stung my eyes a little as I got started on the job. The bottom of each steel cage pulled out, so it was a simple matter of emptying the dirty litter into the bin, replacing it with fresh and slipping the tray back into the bottom of the cage. Easier said than done though, when you've got thirty-odd cats and the litter is so heavily used that it's stuck to the bottom of the tray.

I'd developed a technique of scrubbing the dirt off with the hard edge of a litter spatula, and I was ready to breathe a sigh of relief having finally finished my last one, when the lights flickered and died.

"Oh, great," I muttered, throwing down my cleaning supplies to go and check out at reception.

The dogs in the room next door were howling and barking already, which was comforting in its own way. I left the door open behind me in the hope that the light in the cat room would make it a little easier to navigate, but I still had to make my way through the dark corridor by feeling along the walls on either side. It was slightly disconserting, having to move around in the dark, but I made it to reception without any hiccups.

I could see Miranda using the light from her phone to read through files. Huh. "Um, hey," I said, waving a hand to get her attention. "What happened to the power?"

She shrugged, placing her phone on the desk to look at me. "Must be a storm or something. My husband says it's out over at our place, too."

"Weird," I commented. "Is Doctor Jettenburg around?"

"No. He said to tell you to go once you finished the cats."

I sighed, rolling my eyes in the darkness. "Thanks," I said, before turning back and once more feeling my along until I reached my destination. The door to the cat room had somehow shut behind me, and the cats were all meowing loudly when I pushed it open.

"It's okay, guys," I said without looking. I bent down to pick up the cleaning spatula and spray I'd been using, and set them on the counter when I straightened. "It's just me."

The meowing intensified, and from one of the cages I was pretty sure I heard a hiss. Curious, I turned around to check them. The back-up generator was whirring into life, ten minutes slow but better late than never, and some of the small wall lights had started to flicker on, casting shadows along the walls and ceiling.

I made my way along the left row of cages, looking for the one large white cat in particular who always seemed to hiss at men but liked to purr at women. I could see a white paw down the line sticking out of the bars, curling at the air playfully, and I smiled as I reached him. "Hey there," I whispered, stroking his fur through the bars as he pushed himself against them. "Was that you making all that noise?"

As if on cue, something at the back of the room clattered to the floor. I jumped, and the cats meowing started up again, until I was surrounded on all sides by the sounds of them and the echo of whatever had crashed just behind the shadows at the back of the empty room.

I knew, deep down, that it was irrational to be frightened. One of the cats had probably gotten out and was making a racket. But that thought didn't make me feel any better. I walked swiftly back to the front of the room, stored the cleaning supplies back in their cupboard, tied the rubbish bag and left it inside the door for the janitor to take out.

I didn't lock the door behind me, and I all but ran back to reception, waving goodbye to Miranda over my shoulder as I booked it out of the building and into the cool night air. I didn't bother feeling silly once I was out, but I was already forming my excuse for why a cat might be free in the room.

I didn't look back as I walked home.

* * *

"What did you say to Flash?" Peter asked the next day. He stared at me, daring me to lie about what I'd done.

"I asked him if he was the one who hit you," I said promptly. "Why?"

Peter's fist, which had been clenched tight on the table, spread wide and seemed to grip the wood for a few seconds until he curled it back into a fist again. He said, "Why the hell would you do that? I told you already that it wasn't him."

"Because you were bashed around and I wanted to make sure," I said firmly. "If someone is beating the crap out of you then I will beat the crap out of them, because dammit Parker, you are mine and only mine to beat on."

As I'd hoped, that drew a slight smile from him, but he still looked pissed at me.

He didn't say any more about it, and we covered nearly a quarter of a chapter in record time that afternoon before I finally had to get up and leave. I was tired, and I had to go back to the vet clinic before it got too dark. The power outtage last night, waved off as a roadworks accident, was unlikely to repeat itself but I don't want to take any chances.

To my surprise, Peter insisted on walking with me. It seemed he was ready to put our little spat behind us, though he still wouldn't talk for the entire walk over. Unsure what to make of his weird behaviour, I said goodbye at the door and watched with puzzled eyes as he walked back the way he'd come, hands deep in his pockets and cap pulled back over his face.


	6. Chapter 6

_Woohoo, update. This is a plotty chapter, without much fun I'm afraid. Because there was such a delay and then the chapter you finally are getting isn't all that fluffy in terms of Alex/Peter platonic!Broship, there'll be another chapter up this week. Yep, I'm on a roll._

_I hope you enjoy it!_

_P.S I now have a tumblr. The URL is hold-it-hawkeye and you should totally check me out there for any questions/chats/pictures of pretty boys you might like to see. _

* * *

The path was bustling with movement when I stepped off the tube.

It was almost enough to send me straight back onto the next one home, but I grit my teeth and elbowed my way through the crowds to the concrete steps, towards the light of the street outside.

Fresh air wasn't exactly an accurate way to describe what I exited to, but the smell of the city was salvation enough after nearly an hour waiting for the tube, followed by twenty minutes standing in it.

I kept a brisk pace as I made my way along the footpath, turning corners and crossing twice before I finally got away from the main hussle of the tube exits and the crowds started to disperse.

There was really no good excuse for my presence in the city on a Saturday afternoon. I'd known it was going to be busy, so I couldn't complain about the crowds. Not that it stopped me, but hey, my thoughts are my own.

The truth was, it was a certain someone's birthday on Tuesday, and I wanted the Sunday before school to hibernate from the world. It took a full day to recover from shopping, after all. So Saturday it was.

I wasn't entirely sure whether Peter and I were at that stage yet. We hadn't known each other for one of my birthdays, to be honest I don't think he even knew when my birthday was. But I couldn't imagine he'd let it go without at least a gesture, and I didn't intend to let his pass us by unnoticed.

So it was that I'd put on my big girl panties this morning and decided to brave the crowds of New York just long enough to grab Peter a gift to acknowledge that he had aged another year. Let's face it, with the way he'd been going lately it was a miracle.

I crossed another street and slowed down, finally starting to scan the streets for a shop that looked like it might hold something that would appeal to him. I knew him well enough that I felt confident I'd find something he'd like, but when it came to where exactly I started my search, I was stumped.

After a few minutes of aimless strolling and passive-aggressive glaring when people hit me with their shopping bags, I spotted a store across the road. It was small and boxed-in between two larger shops, stacked with books in the window on top of which sat action figures and cut-outs of popular television characters.

Now that I'd seen it, it seemed obvious that a comic book store was the place to go for nerd-boy. Without hesitation, I walked to the traffic lights and crossed with the crowd. The door was wooden and windowless, more like a house door than an entrance to a shop. It creaked when I pushed it open, and straight away I found four pairs of eyes on me.

They were all standing in a huddle around the counter, and looked genuinely surprised to see that someone had come in. Two of them were teenage girls, one holding a graphic novel and clearly in the middle of discussing it with the others.

The other two were a middle-aged woman and a teenage boy , both wearing black shirts emblazed with the name of the store. The woman wore thick rimmed glasses, pushed up on her head to hold blonde hair from her face.

She grinned broadly, the look of surprise sliding from her face. "Hey there. You need any help just call."

The others quickly resumed talking and looked away from me. Relieved, I smiled and nodded before hurrying to the back of the store. In truth, the place was so cramped and tiny that the back of the store wasn't very far from the counter, but it was at least hidden behind ceiling-high stacks of books and character cut-outs.

I wasn't sure where to begin. I knew Peter's interests, but only the basics of them. They weren't _my_ interests. I browsed aimlessly for a while, settling into it and crouching down to peer through the bottom shelves.

There was so much to look through that I decided to start on the other side of the aisle, where they seemed to be arranged alphabetically before deteriorating into the chaos of the next side. I was so engrossed in my task that I didn't hear him until he was directly behind me.

"Can I help you with anything?"

I jumped, throwing my hand back to hold my balance. I steadied myself and glanced up at the teenage boy who had been at the counter, unable to hold back a laugh of my own when I saw that he was staring at me in amused disbelief.

"Sorry," he said, though he just sounded amused. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," I said quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "I just got kind of caught up in looking at the books, I wasn't paying attention."

"I could see that." He held out a hand to help me to my feet, and I ducked my head to hide my flaming cheeks. "So, other than tumbling around behind the shelves, were you here for anything specific?"

"Actually, yeah," I said, straightening up and trying vainly to regain some dignity. "I was looking for a birthday present for my friend."

"I see," he replied, looking thoughtful. "What does your friend like?"

"He likes science-y things, I guess," I shifted awkwardly, realizing how dumb that sounded. "I mean, he's got a giant poster of Einstein in his bedroom, model DNA strands hanging from the ceiling, that kind of stuff."

The guy laughed, and I narrowed my eyes a little because I honestly wasn't sure whether or not it was at my expense. "Sounds like a smart guy."

"He tutors me," I told him. "So I guess he is. You got anything a guy like him might like?"

"I think we might." He turned around and headed back down the aisle and towards a small alcove between a shelf and the side of the counter. I followed him there, idly hoping that I'd brought enough cash for this. "These are the gadgets, little tech types that the geeks love. You might find something here to suit you."

He wasn't wrong. The selection was smaller than the rest of what the store had to offer, but what they had got was pretty nifty. Right away a small Albert Einstein bobblehead caught my eye. I picked up the box, dusting it off and turning it over to find the price on the bottom. It was a little bit more expensive than I'd been hoping, but nothing I couldn't realistically afford to spend.

Besides, the close-together shop was starting to trigger my inner-claustrophobic and the dust had me scrunching my face unattractively to avoid sneezing. I stood with Einstein in hand and turned to the counter, placing him down and pulling out my purse.

The guy who'd showed me the section grinned when he saw my choice. "I thought you'd like that," he said, tossing it into a plastic bag and handing it across to me.

I shrugged and handed him the money. "Peter certainly will."

"I hope so." He handed me my change, but abruptly pulled his hand back when I reached for it. Confused, I frowned up at him. "Is something wrong?"

He pretended to think about it, glancing off to the side before smiling at me. "I never got your name."

I'm not gonna lie, the guy was pretty cute. He had a narrow kind of face, with freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, bright blue eyes and blond hair that had definitely seen more product than necessary.

Deciding to play along, I smiled, "I don't think I got yours, either."

"Paul," he extended a hand across the counter and looked positively delighted when I shook it. "Now you have to give me yours, it's only fair."

"I'm Alex," I said lightly. I held up my bag, complete with Einstein bobblehead, and started for the door. "I'll see you around, Paul."

He called a goodbye after me, and I waved over my shoulder before emerging back into the street. The daylight seemed harsh after the dim lighting of the comic book store, but once more that day, the city air was a relief.

I felt better with Peter's gift bought, and while it was still early I decided to run into the nearest dollar store for a giftbag. I wasn't even going to attempt wrapping paper, lest he think even less of my hand-eye coordination.

I was at the end of the street, dollar store in sight, when it happened. Everything went silent, and a light flashed from somewhere behind me. Instinctively, I turned to see what it was – a deafening bang resounded through the street, and the entire building crumbled from the top.

Bricks fell like little projectiles, and it wasn't until one whipped into the ground mere inches from my head that I broke out of my stupor. Panicking, I looked around, taking in the scene. People were screaming, running from the scene and without thinking about it, I followed them.

Another building exploded, further up the road in the direction I'd been walking. This one crumpled from the bottom, causing the entire thing to topple sideways and fall like a game of Jenga. People who had been running in that direction quickly changed their path, darting across the street when another building, this time on the side I had run to, was hit with a separate explosion.

In a matter of seconds, the city seemed to close in on itself. All the people who were caught up, myself included, gathered in the centre of the road, weaving between cars in an effort to stay away from any more buildings that might spontaneously combust.

Then, as I stared at the scene around me in abstract horror, something new added itself to the mix. It was human in shape, but it moved like a flash of footage across a freezing computer screen, seeming to teleport forward through space without moving. It looked, for all the world, like a teleporting shadow.

For a while I just stared, unsure of what I was seeing. Then a new, brightly coloured blur swung from the gap between two untouched buildings and slammed into the shadow-man like a wrecking ball.

Spider-man. Of course. The first time I traveled into the city in months, and I got caught in the middle of a superhuman pissing contest. Typical.

I pushed my way further into the centre of the crowd of now awe-gazing spectators, securing myself in as safe a position as was possible given the circumstances. I could already see that both ends of the street were covered in debris; the buildings targeted hadn't been random.

Spider-man reappeared on his own, swinging from wall to wall before coming to rest on the roof of one of the crumbling buildings. He landed in a crouch, scanning the skies for the shadow-man. It wasn't until after he was pushed, falling rapidly towards the ground, that I spotted the shadow glitching his way back across the sky.

Before he hit the ground, Spidey shot a web at random and it caught on the edge of a nearby fire-escape. He somehow managed to swing himself into a safe landing seconds before colliding with the ground, and instantly swung back up to pursue the shadow-man.

I could hear police sirens approaching and knew it would probably scare off New York's latest big bad. It usually scared Spidey pretty quick, though I doubted they were out for his blood any more. He had already proved himself to be a hero.

Sure enough, by the time the cop cars started pulling up and us naive citizens were being herded away from the damaged street, both Shadow-man and Spidey had vanished.

* * *

"No phone call, no text. I suppose you didn't think to check your voicemail on the way home?"

I cringed, shaking my head. "I was kind of in shock, mom."

"Don't you even _try_ to pull that one on me. I had to find out at 2am that you were okay. Do you know how many times I called the police? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"I'm sorry, mom."

I really meant it, too. It's not like I had intentionally neglected to contact her after the incident, but everything had felt so surreal. Getting herded off the street by the police and milling out into the dark subway station had all been a bit of a haze. I honestly didn't even remember most of it.

I'm pretty sure I just sat on the tube home staring blankly at the opposite wall. People probably thought I was stoned.

My mother sighed, running a hand through her already tousled hair. "Just – go to bed. We'll talk in the morning."

I slid off the chair, but before I could scurry to my room I was enveloped in a tight hug. I barely had a chance to return it before mom pushed me back and held me at arms length. For a few seconds she just stared at my face, her own bloodshot eyes staring into mine.

Then she let go, turning around and dismissing me without another word.

I can't say it weirded me out too much. Mom was known for being overprotective with myself and my sister, and I could tell she was out of her mind with worry. All the same, I wasted no time running to my room.

* * *

"So how does it feel?" I asked, grinning.

Peter gave me a sour look. "I can already feel my joints welding together."

"Is that so?"

"I'm concerned about my pension plan."

"You should be. Maybe look into life insurance."

He rolled his eyes and handed me an unopened juice box, which I glanced at before looking at him quizzically. He said, "It's grape. I hate grape."

"Then why did you buy it, genius?" I asked, though I quickly stuck the straw in and started sucking before he could take it back.

"It was the only thing in the vending machine and the shelf was too high for me to see what flavour it was."

We were walking through crowded hallways in the top floor of the school building, on our way to the one class we both shared that day; English II.

It wasn't an important subject for me, but I knew I could pass it easily. The fact that the teacher wasn't much one for bothering to control the classroom made it even more appealing. We basically got to talk amongst ourselves for forty-five minutes.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for everyone to realize the relaxed nature of the class, and so we shared it with the classic bunch of boisterous troublemakers. Some of the more quiet and introverted members of the class were targets for balled up paper and spitballs, but Peter and I had desks in the corner by the window, away and ignored by the rest of the class. It was a getaway that I looked forward to on the days we had it.

"So what happened on Saturday?"

I looked away, sucking at my straw and hoping maybe he'd take a hint and drop it. Speaking about my brush with disaster was something I'd been doing my best to avoid since coming back to school this morning.

Evading Peter was easier said than done, however. The sharp little idiot had spotted me among the crowd being ushered out after the attack on the evening news, and had been harassing me about it since.

"I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," I said noncommittally.

He looked skeptical as he sat down and turned his seat around to face my desk. "Why were you even in the city? You hate crowds."

"Jeez, what are you, my mother?" I sat down and purposely looked out the window, away from his face. "I was shopping, and I had every right to be. It's not my fault that some freaky shadow thing decided to attack the city while I was in it."

"No, I know," he said, shaking his head. "It's just weird. There hadn't been an attack on the city for a while. They seemed to be teetering off into nothing...then suddenly it starts up again."

"You seem to know a lot about this," I pointed out.

"I watch the news," he replied easily. "Maybe if you did the same, you wouldn't have gotten into that situation."

"Hey, quit the victim blaming," I snapped. "I can go wherever I like whenever I like, and I shouldn't have to plan my actions around the possibility that someone might hurt me."

Peter huffed out a sigh, and we both looked out the window. From the corner of my eye, I saw his jaw tighten. He was angry, but I didn't think the anger was directed at me. I hadn't done anything to earn it, if it was.

"Anyway," I said, breaking the tension between us with a change of subject. "Any plans for your birthday tomorrow?"

He looked away from the window slowly, and shook his head when he caught my eye. "Nothing interesting. Aunt May will probably arrange something, even though I just want to sleep until it passes."

"Why would you want to sleep your bithrday away?" I asked, genuinely baffled at the idea. "It's the one day of the year that everyone _has_ to celebrate you. You get presents literally just to celebrate the fact that you were born. That's pretty cool."

"I don't like the attention."

"Don't be such a sour puss, everyone likes attention on their birthday!"

"Yeah, well I don't."

He sounded tired, and looked even worse. I was confused, and I'm sure it showed on my face.

Peter was an anomaly. He was smart, funny, attractive even. He had everything going for him, yet something about him just seemed _wrong_.

He looked deflated and rough, like he was always just moments from snapping. The other students seemed to notice it too. People avoided him, veered away and barely interacted with him. They sensed it the way I did, that something wasn't right. Unlike me, these people listened to that nagging self-preservation instinct and steered clear of him.

I guess I just wasn't that smart.

"Peter, you know that we're pals, right?" I ventured, offering him a little smile. "If something is wrong, you can tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone, if you don't want me to."

There I was, putting myself out there. It was scary, as if I was doing something much more important than just offering support to someone who I already knew would reject it. In fact, it was the anticipated rejection that had me feeling so on edge. Being shot down was never pleasant.

"Thanks, Lex." He smiled tentatively back at me. "I don't – I mean, nothing is wrong. I'm just tired. Schoolwork and everything. But I appreciate it."

I returned his smile, reaching across the desk to slap him playfully on the shoulder. "As long as you know I'm here, Parker. I promise not to make fun of you. That much."

He looked relieved, which was enough of an indication that I really shouldn't believe his reassurances.

As if I had.


End file.
